Deviation
by Athenavienna
Summary: Begins at the point in DH when the Snatchers deliver Ron, Harry and Hermione to Malfoy Manor. Plot tangents into AU as a repentant Draco Malfoy decides to make a change. What will he do to redeem himself and will it be enough?
1. Unexpected Path

Author's Note: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, original series plot lines or anything else J.K. related. Just borrowing for a bit:)

Turning down an unexpected path 

Draco Malfoy stared reluctantly into the swollen, dirty face of Harry Potter. His father had a tight grip on the back of his neck and was beside himself in excitement. He kept pressing Draco's face closer to Harry's; as though a better proximity would speed Draco's answer. A profane litany ran through his head. This was obviously Potter standing in front of him and one word from Draco would deliver the Golden Boy into the Dark Lord's hands. He had seen first hand what the soulless creature could do. He had come to understand the true implications of the Dark Lords rise in power. He knew that if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named actually won this war a blanket of terror would cover the world. After all that he had seen, Draco Malfoy no longer wanted to be a part of that.

"Draco, look closely. It is Potter, isn't it? Don't you see the scar? You know him, tell me, is it really him?" Lucius Malfoy demanded.

Draco was spared giving an answer by Fenir Greyback who was poking at his father, demanding retribution of some sort. Draco was past caring about the petty arguments about who would claim the honor of bringing the Golden Trio to the feet of the Dark Lord and took advantage of his father's momentary distraction to slink away. He crossed the room to the massive fireplace and tried to be as invisible as possible without actually casting a Disollusionment Charm. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and took inventory of the situation.

It was his aunt that caught his attention. Bellatrix held an overlarge sword and was muttering incoherently to herself. "How did they enter the vault…impossible….Dark Lord will be furious….not my fault," she whispered. A shiver ran down his spine when a sudden look of malicious clarity gleamed over her features. Nothing good can come from a countenance like that. The string of foul words began again in Draco's head. What was the crazy bat up to now?

He didn't have to wait long. His aunt wheeled toward him and barked out a command to remove Fenir and his cronies from the property. Narcissa snarled something back at her and the werewolf began complaining even louder about his reward. Bellatrix threw gold coins at him and cackled. She stalked toward the Granger girl. Whatever she had planned next, Draco did not want to see it.

"Let's get a move on," he snapped coldly at the nearest Snatcher.

"But what about…" the greasy git stuttered as Draco grasped his elbow and propelled him toward the door.

"Now." Draco interrupted. He continued, firing rhetorical questions at his quarry mercilessly. "Do you really want to wait around for Bellatrix to call He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Have you ever seen Him? Do you have any idea how volatile His moods are? What if He decides the lot of you have bunged this up royally, delivering those saps to His Demented-Lady-In-Waiting instead of to Ministry? You really have no clue, do you?"

The man stammered again, his eyes boggling out. "You really think that the Dark Lord will be upset?" he managed to squeak out.

"That remains to be seen," retorted Draco. By this time, the others snatchers had overheard their conversation and were hot on Draco's heels as he led them to the door. All of them, except Fenir that is. He was sidling up to Narcissa Malfoy in an almost coy manner. Like he was flirting with her. Or as if he knew something she did not.

"Narcissa," began Fenir plaintively. "You couldn't possibly let that…"

"Crenauciam," hissed Bellatrix as she made a downward slashing motion with her wand in Fenir's direction, impatient to have the werewolf out of her presence.

Fenir yowled as a burning sensation ripped down the side of his arm. The look she sent him practically scalded the hide right off of him and he scampered after the forms retreated toward the main gates.

As the group walked quickly away from the study, a sudden explosion of noise erupted. Bellatrix's plan was now apparent through the bellowing of Ron Weasely. She was going to separate the Golden Trio and torture information out of Hermione Granger. Outside of Fenir, none of the retreating figures wanted to hear the agonizing cries of the persecuted. When Fenir stopped in his tracks and tried to turn around, Draco jabbed at him with his wand.

"Enough, Fenir," Draco warned. "You know you won't be able to stop yourself from tearing her apart when she starts screaming and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will want a go at her before you."

Fenir stoked his chin thoughtfully. Without comment, he proceeded to the front entrance, silently conceding to the wisdom of Draco's comment. In his mind, he was already constructing his request to have the girl when the Dark Lord had finished with her. He was certain that He would think it a just reward for all of His faithful subject's efforts.

Only a few minutes had passed when a hoarse scream soon tore through the Manor and onto to grounds where Draco was pushing the Snatchers out the gate. All of them froze and their eyes widened as the sound continued for an inhumanly long time. Fenir licked his lips and stared back up at the Manor. The others cowered away from the building.

"I told you that you would not want to be in there," intoned Draco. He slammed the gates rather harder than necessary to break Fenir's fascination and watched as the Snatchers disappeared into the fog that was rolling in from the north.

Kicking a loose stone, he wondered how long he could stay outside before his absence was noticed. From the sound of it, Bellatrix was interrogating Granger with the Cruciatus Curse. Short of throwing himself in between the two of them, there was nothing he could do about it and he wasn't about to incur his aunt's rage by trying. He did hope that the Granger girl would give his aunt the answers she wanted to hear sooner rather than later, though. Draco knew from experience that Bellatrix was capable of doling out a great deal of pain and that she found a perverse sense of joy from it. He wouldn't wish that sort of anguish on a Blast-Ended Skrewt, let along a human being. Any human being.

An eternity later, the screams subsided. Draco crept quietly back into to the Manor. Even from the foyer, he could hear the Granger girl's whimpers. He debated with himself whether he should turn around, but caught the last bit of an argument Bellatrix and his father were having.

"Take her down to the dungeons, Lucius, I've got all I need from her," Bellatrix was commanding his father lazily.

"You seem to have confused me with a House Elf, Bella. I am not one of your simpering minions to be ordered around. Especially not in my own home!" countered Lucius indignantly.

"When the Dark Lord arrives, you'll be…" Bellatrix began defensively.

"I'll do it," Draco interjected.

Bellatrix turned to him, beaming her pleasure. "Dracikins, how utterly….chivalrous of you. I thought your father," she shot Lucius a nasty glare, "was going to make me do all of the work."

Eager to leave the scene, Draco levitated Hermione's body and began to guide toward the dungeon tunnels. As he passed his mother, she raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. She did not like her son calling attention to himself, especially when her increasingly erratic sister was involved.

"Put her in the cell next to her little friends. I want them to hear her cry. I want them to know how much I hurt her," purred Bellatrix as Draco made his exit.

Draco continued down the hall until he came to a juncture. The passage to his left descended into the dungeons. To his right, the corridor to the south wing of Malfoy Manor. He disengaged the Levitation Charm on Hermione and caught her before she hit the stone floor. She groaned at the impact and began to pant in pain.

"Silencio," Draco muttered as he distractedly pointed his wand at the struggling girl. He propped her up against the wall, turned his back on her, clenched his fingers in his hair and began to pace.

Hermione, unable to hold herself up, slid down the wall and puddled on the floor like a discarded rag doll. Through the mass of her hair, she watched Draco pace the floor a few feet from her. Her body twitched involuntarily as the remnants of the Cruciatus Curse swathed her in excruciating pain. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to wrench her limbs into motion. She fell unconscious again.

Feet halting inches in front of Hermione's face, Draco made his decision. An incantation accompanied by a complex combination of arm movements produced a replica of himself and a floating Hermione Granger. A few more instructions sent the seemingly solid illusion toward the dungeons. Then, Draco knelt down, carefully scooped the real Hermione up and carried her down the passageway to his right.


	2. How to Cure Cruciatus Tremors

Author's Note: I do not own anything of J.K's world. Just having some fun with it.

How to Calm Cruciatus Tremors

There were several reasons the Cruciatus Curse was illegal. The one Draco was most concerned with now was that the curse did not have any known counters. Those hit must suffer through the aftereffects however painful they may be. Draco knew that no charm or potion would ease Hermione's pain when she regained consciousness. He knew because he had been hit with the curse several times throughout his childhood. Neither his father nor his aunt nor many of his other relatives thought it inhumane to use this particular curse. In fact, they believed that Draco would eventually become immune to its effects and thusly, they were doing him a favor. He supposed the repeated exposure to the curse had thickened his skin both physically and mentally. He could detach himself emotionally from his family as well as from his own body. It was a detachment from his family that he was currently nurturing as he carried Hermione's prone figure up the stairwell to his private chambers.

Draco, whose arms were occupied with the unconscious Hermione, used his hip to swing the door to his bedroom open. He strode purposefully across the room to his private bath. Even though there was no charm or potion to completely alleviate the effects of the Cruciatus curse, Draco knew that a hot bath infused with eucalyptus oil was an immense help. An hour soaking in water charmed to remain at a temperature just short of scalding had always eased the physical pain that coursed through the muscles, causing the Cruciatus Tremors.

Once Draco entered the bathroom, he lowered the girl, whose limbs were beginning to jerk and twitch, into the massive tub. It was meant for a grown man to be able to immerse himself from toe to chin and it seemed to swallow her much smaller form. Her head was resting at an odd angle halfway between the rim and the bottom, her long scraggly hair forming a wild halo. Draco sighed heavily as he looked at Hermione. "This is going to end badly," he said aloud to himself. With a quick shake of his head, he snapped out of the momentary lapse of confidence. He was committed to this course of action and he damn well better get it in gear and secure his room before someone walked in on them.

Leaving Hermione prone in the bathtub, Draco recrossed the room. "Colloportus," he directed the spell toward the door leading to his chamber. "Muffliato." "Intrudiam." "Salvio Hexia." The he continued casting spells, charms and curses until he felt that anyone entering the room or trying to spy on him from the hallway would be deflected. He was not concerned that such precautions would be deemed suspicious as all of those in the Manor were paranoid that one of the others would stab them in the back. Perhaps literally.

Finally satisfied, he returned to the bathroom to find Hermione now writhing from the pain caused by the Cruciatus Tremors. Thankfully, she had not regained consciousness, no doubt her screaming would be unbearable. Draco hoisted her upper body to lean against his shoulder and wrinkled his nose at her scent. Sweat, fear, dirt and all the other smells associated with living off the land with boys mingled in her hair and clothing. He wondered, briefly, what she normally smelled like. He guessed like parchment and ink as he rarely ever saw her without these items, then concentrated on his task at hand. Draco peeled off the sweater she was wearing and then also the long sleeved shirt that was underneath it. Beneath the shirt was a soft, white camisole and through that, he could see that she was wearing a white bra with a bit of lace at its edges. Leaving these layers on to give her some privacy, he lowered her torso back to the tub. This done, he divested her of her shoes, socks and jeans. It was easier said than done, as her legs kept spasming and Draco had to dodge the kicking appendages.

With as much of her clothes taken off as he was comfortable removing, Draco took the showerhead off of its stand. "Calientada Augentia," he instructed and hot water sprayed forth. He directed the stream to Hermione's feet and worked his way up her body, rinsing off a few days worth of grime. Once he reached her head, he laid her torso across his forearm and doused her hair. She truly had a massive amount of hair. It somehow managed to get longer and thicker the wetter it became. It did cross his mind that a simple Scourgify charm would have sufficed, but Draco wanted tangible satisfaction. He accioed a bar of eucalyptus scented soap and lathered her entire body, including hair. Once more, Draco rinsed her body and let the water drain from the tub. When he had finished, he set the plug into the drain and let the water fill almost to the brim. He placed a sticking charm to Hermione's head, so that she would not slip under and drown. Already, the spasms had dissipated and she looked like a marionette whose puppet master was drunkenly pulling her strings. Draco left her there and exited the room. It would look suspicious if he was gone for too long.

It was a very good thing he returned when he did. He entered a room of complete chaos. Everyone was screaming obscenities and running about, dodging curses and charms. In the middle of the melee were Harry Potter, Ron Weasely and, weirdly enough, Dobby the former Malfoy house elf, were charging like hippogriffs separated from their young. Ron was yelling Hermione's name over and over with a desperate look plastered to his face. Harry, taking a more combative and effective approach, was in the process of launching himself at Bellatrix. Draco was just in time to see the two collide, Harry wrestling her wand out of her grasp as her head cracked on the stone floor and all of her muscles went momentarily limp. Draco pulled his wand out of his pocket, not knowing what exactly he was going to do. He had their friend sequestered upstairs in his bathtub and knew that shooting a curse at one of them would contradict his recent decision to back away from his malevolent leader. On the other hand, actually trying to help them would be suicide. Draco was saved from making any real decision by Harry, who used Bellatrix's wand to accio his. Harry snatched the wand out of the air and immediately tossed it to Ron, who was still calling out for Hermione. Ron caught the wand reflexively.

Over the din of the chaos, a screeching laughter, like someone scraping the rust off the inside of an ancient cauldron, grew intensely louder. The sound was coming from the prone figure of his aunt Bellatrix. The noise of her insane laughter seemed to freeze everyone. They quit yelling over each other and took defensive position. All wands were drawn, each jerking quickly from one target to another, the owners not sure of who to hex or where a hex might come from.

Eventually, Bellatrix ceased her cackling. Rolling to one side, she propped herself up on an elbow. "You're too late, you know," she said mirthfully. "Too late, too late, too late, too late!" she chanted. Continuing the taunt the ridged boys standing in the middle of the room, she twisted her face into a sickening smile. She jeered, "Your little friend did not last nearly as long as I had hoped she would. No, no no! She bled out onto the floor before I was even warmed up. Ha! Blood on the floor….in the dirt where it belongs. I was surprised how thin it was. One would image a Mudblood would spew thick…"

Ron exploded. With an unintelligible howl, he thrust his entire weight behind the curse he aimed at Bellatrix. Whatever the spell was, it burst from the stolen wand in an electric blue hiss. Bellatrix rolled away from it, gracefully coming to her feet and with a practiced motion drew a warped looking knife from a sheath hung at her waist. Her teeth were bared in a sardonic and evil grin. She cocked her arm over her head. Almost faster than the eye could track, she flicked her elbow and sent the knife whistling toward Ron's heart.

Nobody had been paying attention to Dobby during the entire chilling scene. He managed to sneak in through the crowd as everyone had been distracted by Bellatrix's crazed monologue. Just as the knife was about to find its target, Dobby took a flying leap in front of the boys. One hand grasped a handful of each of Harry and Ron's cloaks and the other he raised high above his head and snapped his fingers. The resulting "pop" was no louder than usual, but it seemed deafening to Draco's ears.

For a moment, nobody moved. Not a finger twitched or an eyelid batted. The shock of what had happened immobilized them all. Oddly, it was Narcissa who recovered first. Anticipating the tantrum her sister would be sure to throw in the next few seconds, she pointed her wand at Bellatrix and coldly uttered, "Impedimenta." She then slowly turned her head in Draco's direction. "Go to your room," she ordered. "Go to your room and wait until I come for you."

Relieved that he would not need to be involved in whatever scheme or excuses Bellatrix and his parents would need to come up with to save their hides from a Dark Lord punishment, Draco retreated to his room. Taking down and then immediately replacing the wards guarding the area, he swiftly crossed over to the bathroom. Hermione's eyes were still closed and her left foot twitched under water. "Finite Incantatem," he wearily said, releasing the sticking charm he had placed on her head. She slowly started to slide down the side of the tub, but before her head was completely submerged, Draco grasped both of her shoulders and heaved her soaking body out of the water. He cast a drying spell, closed the lid to the toilet and sat her down.

Draco left her there, slumped and shivering. He went a chest in his large closet and rifled through its contents until he found a pair of soft flannel pajama set he had outgrown a few years ago. Holding them up, he reckoned that they would still be a bit big for the girl in his bathroom, but that at least she wouldn't be drowning in them. Happy with his choice, he took the clothes back to the bathroom and set them on the counter next to Hermione. Then he shook her until her eyes crept open. Beyond her heavy lids, Draco could see that she was not really able to focus her gaze. Her mouth dropped and she let out a soundless groan as Draco had not yet released the silencing charm he had cast earlier. He put a hand on either side of her head and spoke slowly. "Granger. Granger I need you to put these on." With that, he placed the pajamas on her lap. Her chin lulled downward and she stared at the fabric. Draco lightly slapped her cheek and her head whipped up again. Her eyes were now fully open and wide in surprised fear. Draco replaced his hands on her head. "The pajamas," he repeated, "Put them on."

Rising from the crouch he had been in, Draco left the bathroom, pulled the curtains surrounding his bed aside and sat down. Meanwhile, Hermione groggily looked from the door he had just exited from and the clothes on her lap. Slowly and uneasily, she took off her camisole, bra and panties and replaced them with the pajamas. Then, like a sleepwalker, she shuffled painfully toward the door. Hearing her footsteps, Draco rose from the bed and moved toward her. Hermione shrank back as she saw him approach, her eyes darting, looking for an escape. Without preamble, Draco lifted her and carried her to the bed. Once he had settled her in what he deemed to be a comfortable position, he pulled the covers up to her chin. He went to the other side of the bed and lay down on top of the blankets, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. Hermione, unable to move more because of the pain remaining from the Cruciatus Curse and the tightness of the blankets, turned her head on the pillow and stared in confusion at Draco.

"Go to sleep, Granger."


	3. Mudblood Smuggling

Author's Note. Jk rules and she owns Harry Potter and all his friends, not me.

Mudblood Smuggling

Hermione lay motionless, the warmth of the charmed self-warming sheets seeping into her still twitching muscles. For the love of phoenix tears, what was going on? Draco "the Ferret" Malfoy had just tucked her into his own bed and ordered her to fall asleep. Would the four horse men of the apocalypse canter through the bedroom next? Or perhaps Voldemort himself would saunter in and perform an Irish jig to a Weird Sisters chart topping hit. At this point, anything seemed more probable than the situation she was currently in.

"Granger, seriously, I can actually hear the cogs and wheels in your brain grinding together. You would be dead already if that was what I wanted. Give it a rest. Literally. Close your beady little eyes and go to sleep."

She did not have the strength to argue at the moment and quite frankly, a part of her believed that Malfoy would not have gone to all the trouble of making her comfortable if he was going to kill her in her sleep. Her eyelids were heavy and she let them drift shut. Just a few minutes of rest. That is all she needed. She would sleep, just for a moment, just until Malfoy himself had fallen asleep, and then she would bolt. Rested, she should be able to evade the Death Eaters lurking about, find an exit to the Manor, maneuver through the wards and traps sure to be set on the property grounds and escape entirely. A very good plan, if she thought so herself.

Draco closed his eyes and waited. His nerves were too wired to even consider sleeping. But, if he didn't feign sleep, Granger would never succumb to it. At long last, Hermione's breath softened and lengthened as she fell asleep. Draco did not move a muscle in fear that the slightest shift of the mattress would awaken her for almost a half hour. Eventually, he decided that she was in a deep enough slumber that he should be able to get out of the bed without disturbing her. In one slow, sinuous motion, Draco slithered off the bed and onto his feet. Closing the drapes around the bed together, he cast a sound proofing charm and went to his bookshelf. Might as well have something to read while he waited for his mother to give him the all clear sign from the disastrous escape of Potty and Weasel earlier.

He had been settled in a chair next to the window for a few hours when a ward from the hallway went off. It was the sound of an owl hooting in a very specific sequence. Draco had cast the spells guarding his room very carefully so that he would know who was approaching. The sound of an owl calling in a staccato beat of low tones was assigned to his mother. "Finally," Draco said to himself.

Instead of waiting for his mother to wade through the numerous defense systems leading up to his bedroom, Draco opened the door, reset the locks and strode toward Narcissa. To a stranger, both mother and son looked calm and vague; disinterest of the world at large the prominent feature on their faces and in their body language. However, both Narcissa and Draco noticed the tiny cracks in the mask the other was wearing. There was a small crease between Narcissa's brows and her shoulders were drawn back more than good posture called for. Draco's lips were pressed together and the fingers of his left hand were clenched.

"Mother?" Draco inquired, controlling his voice. He stopped a few feet before her.

Narcissa crossed her arms in front of her chest and stood as straight as a lightning rod. "It has been resolved, my son."

"Will the family be implicated in this…situation?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, there were too many witnesses for us to sweep this under the rug. Fenir is certainly on his way to The Dark Lord as we speak. He seeks the Mark…the power…the privileges of being one of us. Our Leader will come. And when he does, you will be back at school. I highly doubt He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will expend the energy to pursue you. Not when he has much more available targets," she stated matter-of-factly.

"But Mother!" exclaimed Draco as he closed the gap between them and grasped her by the shoulders. "He'll kill you. Or worse!"

His mother interrupted what was becoming an emotional scene on Draco's part. "It has been decided and you will obey your father and I," she said coolly, removing her son's death grip on her shoulders and folding them into her own hands. "It will take Fenir quite a while find The Dark Lord and gain an audience with him. We will have ample time to create a scenario that puts our family in the best light possible," Narcissa concluded, pulling her wand from the ornamental belt at her waist. She pressed the 9 inch cherry wood with a manitcor stinger core wand into Draco's left hand. "Take this," she said firmly.

"No Mother, I cannot leave you here unarmed," protested Draco. "Especially since Father has been disposed of his wand as well."

"I insist. I will not tolerate any argument from you," Narcissa hissed. "Now go and pack your things. Your father is arranging an early arrival for you at Hogwarts. You will leave at dawn. With my wand."

She placed her hand on the crown of his head, then traced a sideways eight on his forehead with her thumb. An ancient Malfoy blessing. The only sign of affection she allowed herself to show for her only child. Draco accepted her blessing with his eyes closed. Not letting her see the pain he was feeling for abandoning her was the only sign of affection he allowed himself to show her. They turned from each other and stalked off in opposite directions. Neither looked back.

Draco made his way through the wards around his room. He had a lot to do and little time in which to do it in. First and foremost, he had to get rid of the Mudblood sleeping peacefully on his bed. He contemplated drugging her with a powerful sleeping potion and packing her into one of his school trunks. There was the issue of the heightened security at the school and the fact that even his luggage would be scanned and searched for contraband. He was confident that he could cloak her with enough wards and charms that she would pass through the inspections undetected; he was more concerned with what to do with her once he arrived at the school. Setting her loose in the nest of Death Eaters and conspirators Hogwarts had become was not much better than letting her wander the halls of Malfoy Manor unattended. No, Draco decided. He needed to smuggle her out of the Manor now, while everyone else was distracted.

Throwing aside the curtains on Hermione's side of the bed, he was caught by surprise to see that her eyes were already opened and that she was waiting for him. Hermione had adjusted several of the pillows and was reclined in a semi-upright position. She had the mien of ancient royalty; her eyes patient and inquisitive. Draco was taken off guard and was momentarily speechless.

"Malfoy," Hermione said simply.

After a few seconds of silence, Hermione repeated herself. "Malfoy." She waited for him to respond and when he didn't she demanded, "You need to get me out of here. You can't keep me here forever. I won't wait for Vol…"

Before Hermione could even reach the second syllable of the Dark Lord's name, Draco roughly clapped a hand onto her mouth.

"Do. Not. Say. His. Name." he spat out at her. "Only rebels use his name and anyone who speaks it will be found and prosecuted. Never forget that."

Hermione's eyes widened as she realized her near fatal error. She vaguely remembered hearing Dean Thomas mention something to that affect as they were being transported by the Snatchers. She reached up and removed Draco's hand. "So it's true then," she said softly.

"Yes. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has grown creative," Draco explained. "He has managed to invent a sort of Portkey based on the sound generated from saying his name. All of the Snatchers have a small dagger that glows red when the Dark Lord's name is spoken. If they choose, they grasp the hilt and are transported within feet of the idiot that dared speak His name. It's a poor excuse for the Mark they all crave, but they relish the privilege. I am surprised that there were not more Snatchers escorting the lot of you here."

"All of that is beside the point," he continued before Hermione could interrupt with more questions. "You're right, you do need to get out of here. Now." At the sight of the confusion in her eyes he snapped, "Don't ask questions, don't examine my motives, just do what I tell you."

He turned his back on her and stalked to his armoire. From the back, he snatched a cloak from his fourth year. He inspected it and deemed it long and large enough to disguise Hermione's form without being ridiculously and conspicuously large on her.

"Put this on and follow me," Draco ordered as he threw the garment at her.

Hermione balked, the cloak she caught instinctively balled up between her hands. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she finally managed to sputter out.

Turning back toward her, Draco curled his upper lip into the classic Malfoy sneer. "Really," to add insult to injury, he raised an eyebrow. "How exactly are you planning to evade the Deatheaters in residence, maneuver the wards and escape the property?" He crossed his arms across his chest and set an expression of bored sarcasm on his face.

Opening her mouth a few times, Hermione could not think of a retort. He had a point. If she wanted to get through the Manor alive, she would need a guide. She might not know what his intentions were, but the worst he could do was lead her into trap. If she remained vigilant, she could avoid being caught in whatever manipulations Malfoy had planned and still benefit from his guidance through his home. On the other hand, perhaps he was serious about helping her and did not wish to hurt her. Either way, there was no other logical choice but to follow him.

"Lead the way," Hermione conceded.

With a curt nod, Draco opened the door and began disassembling the wards guarding his room. Hermione slipped on the cloak and drew the hood over her hair. Draco gestured for her to follow him and led her into the corridor. Moving swiftly and almost silently, the pair ghosted through the Manor without meeting anyone. Before exiting through a side door, Draco cracked it open and peeked in each direction. Hermione had to stifle a giggle; the action reminded her of a small child checking if the coast was clear during a game of Hide-and-Seek. Apparently satisfied that nobody was on the grounds or watching from a window, Draco grabbed the edge of Hermione's borrowed cloak and jerked her into a run. Sprinting, they ran headlong across the lawn toward the line of trees bordering the edge of the Malfoy property. No alarm was cried out and they passed into the cover of the forest undetected. They stood panting for a few moments and once they had caught their breath, Draco began leading the way to the property line.

The forest was fairly thick and they had been walking for an hour without speaking to each other. The woods, however, were far from quiet. Night creatures called to one another, trees moaned and leaves rustled. In spite of the noise, Draco heard the footsteps of two other people approaching from the opposite direction. It would not be long before whoever it was stumbled upon them.

"Merlin's ratty, flea infested beard," mumbled Draco.

Before Hermione could ask what was wrong, Draco grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her forcibly into the trunk of a nearby tree. Drawing the hoods of both of their cloaks up, he leaned in toward Hermione, his forehead resting on her temple and his lips touching her cheeks. He took his mother's wand out of the cloak pocket and began hurriedly whispering spells. She could not hear what he was saying, but could feel the movement of his lips against the side of her face. Hermione stiffened in distrust and tried to move away, but Draco tightened his grip. He withdrew his face slightly so that he could look her in the eyes and implored, "trust me." That said, he continued his incantations, at times waving his wand over Hermione's head. When he finished, he hid the wand back into the pocket, placed one hand on the tree behind Hermione and the other firmly gripped the back of her head. Taking a deep breath, Draco steeled himself. Then without warning, he kissed her. Hard.

Hermione's protests were muffled. She squirmed and tried to push Draco away, but he remained persistent, his lips attached to hers and his head following the jerky motion of her own. His fingers buried into her hair and he used this to his advantage, twisting his wrist so that she was effectively trapped by the long strands. He was relentless and Hermione was afraid.

A twig snapped under a nearby foot and, with casual indifference, Draco nudged the hood of Hermione's cloak off of her face.

"Oi! Pansy! What are you doing here?" the oafish voice of Vincent Crabbe boomed through the night air.

The trollish laugh of Gregory Goyle followed in an idiotic cadence. Draco ended the brutal kiss to sneer over his should at the dual epitome of stupid. "What does it look like she's doing her, Crabbe?" snapped Draco.

"She's snogging you?" Goyle offered dumbly.

"Fantastic, I was so grievously worried that you were going blind, Goyle," countered Draco in acid tones. "Now that we've established that I am having an intimate moment with Parkinson, shove off. The both of you!"

"But Draco, why is she here? Nobody is supposed to come on the grounds except…." Crabbe hesitantly began to whine.

"Stow it Crabbe. Can't you see I'm trying to eliminate some stress? Would you rather I soothed my nerves by practicing the Cruciatus on your overgrown ass? Get out of here!" Draco snarled.

This successfully stopped any further comment on either Crabbe or Goyle's part and the two of them beat a hasty retreat back in the direction of the Manor. Draco continued to glare at them, his left hand still entangled in Hermione's hair.

During the entire exchange, Hermione's eyes had darted wildly between her blonde captor and the imminent threat of his fellow Slytherins. Now that the danger had seemed to be past, she took stock of her situation. Draco's body was flush against hers, pinning her to the tree and she could feel his rapid breath against her chest, even though his face did not reveal any of the signs of panic. A lock of hair floated across her face and she started in surprise. The hair was not the unruly, light brown of her own, but rather a stick straight black. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the silver mirror of Draco's eye. It was not her own face looking horrified back at her, but a girl with close set eyes and a pug nose. He had cast a Dissolusionment charm on her, giving her the appearance of Pansy Parkinson!

Satisfied that Crabbe and Goyle had left and would not be returning, Draco lifted the spell and released his death grip on her hair.

"We had better get moving," he said without looking at Hermione. "We're almost to the property line and I need to get back before Crabbe and Goyle start running their mouths."

Hermione nodded and mutely followed. In ten minutes, they reached the edge of the Malfoy lands. Hermione could almost physically feel the metaphorical weight of being in such a dangerous place lifted from her spirits. She took a deep breath in as though the air on this side of the property line was somehow sweeter. Turning, she smiled at Draco.

"What are you grinning about," he demanded.

"I'm free," she said simply. "I'm free and I will find my friends and everything will be OK again. Well, as alright as possible, in these circumstances."

"I don't know how you imagine you'll accomplish that. I'm not going to help you find the Dubious Duo. This is where I leave you. You're on your own," Draco retorted peevishly.

"I don't think I'll need your help finding them. Stand back a bit and cover your face. Their motto tends to be 'Hex now, ask questions later' these days," said Hermione as she shooed Draco a few steps away from her.

"Ron," Hermione cried out into the night sky. "Ron I need you!"

A few seconds later an ear popping crack resounded and reverberated off the trees. Ronald Weasley stood several feet from them, his arm extended over his head and in his hand a silver cylinder was clutched tightly. He somehow managed to look bewildered, excited, angry and relieved all at the same time. Ron caught sight of Hermione and let out a jubilant shout. He loped across distance separating them, picked her up off the ground and squeezed her until she couldn't breathe.

"Merlin, 'Mione! We thought you were dead. Malfoy levitated you into the cell next to ours, we could hear him talking to the guards, and then Dobby showed up out of nowhere and busted us out and then we started running in all directions because we didn't know where we were going and the guards were coming and Harry was going up the stairs and Dean was throwing open all the doors to the other cells and I opened the one you were in and you were gone! Dean said you weren't in any of the others and Harry was screaming at me to hurry because he was sure they must have taken you again to Crucio you some more," Ron rushed without pausing.

"Morgan le Fey's knobby knees Weasel, she's turning purple," drawled Draco.

Recognizing the voice, Ron immediately went on the defensive. In his rush to get to his wand, Ron dropped Hermione. She landed with a thump and gasped for air. Meanwhile both Ron and Draco drew their wands and took defensive stances. At an impasse, they eyed each other. Hermione came to her hands and knees and yelled, "Ron stop! He's the one that got me out of the Manor!"

Not easing his position, Ron swiveled his eyes to look at her. "You've got to be kidding me," he gritted through his teeth.

"No, Ronald. He didn't take me into the dungeons, he must have charmed an illusion to make it look like he did. He took me to his room and …. well …. he saved me," she finished quietly.

For once, Ron was struck speechless. His mouth hung open at an unattractive angle as he regarded his friend as though she had grown a third head. Hermione took the opportunity to stand up completely and she warily approached Draco.

"Come with us Malfoy," she pleaded. "Come with Ron and I. I'll explain to Harry what you've done and we'll find a way to keep you safe. You don't have to continue down the path you're on. You don't want to, I can tell." At this point, she was inches from Draco and she reached a hand tentatively to touch his shoulder.

Draco allowed the touch. He looked resigned and defeated. Sighing he said, "No Granger, I can't come with you."

"But Malfoy," protested Hermione.

He did not let her finish. Roughly, he threw her hand off of his shoulder, spun her around and pushed her hard toward Ron.

"Get her out of here. Now!" he yelled.

As Hermione fell into him, Ron wrapped an arm around her and Disapperated_._


End file.
